


Under This Umbrella

by AestheticWritingPro



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Boris & Theo, Boris Loves Theo, Boris Pavlikovsky needs a hug, Boys Kissing, Child Abuse, Coming of Age, Cute, Cute gays, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Imaginary Rain, Loneliness, M/M, One Shot Collection, Sad and Happy, gay boys, hand holding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-12-27 05:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AestheticWritingPro/pseuds/AestheticWritingPro
Summary: The first time Boris took out the umbrella, Theo had been confused.The last time he put it away, Theo finally felt like he didn't need it anymore.





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a series of short Boreo one-shots that all take place underneath (an on occasion, around) the same umbrella as they walk home under in the movie. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**The First Time**

The first time Boris pulled out the umbrella, Theo had been confused.

"What's with the umbrella?" He asked the boy, watching carefully as those dark eyes scanned him, and a smirk hitched up in the corner of those red lips.

"Don't like the sun," he replied, opening the umbrella and holding it over his own head. He waited, staring at Theo with an almost expectant look in his eyes, and Theo hesitated. "Well? You coming, Harry Potter?" Boris asked, and the smirk deepened a little as Theo jumped and hurried over to stand under the shade.

They started walking, and he took a breath, looking around at the ghost town. Dust settled and then swished and then settled again under their feet as they walked.

"Where are you from?" Theo asked the mysterious boy curiously— his accent was heavy. He had to have lived somewhere before he came here. Boris thought about it for a second, and a gust of wind blew his wild curls into his eyes. He tossed his head to clear his vision and shrugged.

"Lots of places," he said, then began counting on his fingers. "Russia, mostly," he began. "Australia, Poland, Scotland, New Zealand, Texas, Alaska, New Guinea, Canada, Saudi Arabia, Sweden, and Ukraine." Off of Theo's odd look, he chuckled. "We travel. My father works in mines. Company comes, people say, 'Don't fuck up environment!' Company fucks up environment." He shook his head, brow furrowing. "No point, yes? People hate us. We move. Repeat story."

"How long will you be here?" Theo asked, looking down at the pale dirt and kicking a loose stone.

"Ah, that is good question, Potter." Boris bumped their shoulders together, switching the umbrella from his right to his left hand as to cover them more fully. "Here, does not matter." He gestured around at the desert-like area with a grin. "Environment is already fucked, no?"

They approached the deserted houses, and Theo could help but to smile back. Boris lowered the umbrella as they reached his front steps and closed it, slipping it back into his coat.

The sun hit their backs for a single moment, and Theo found himself thinking, _He's right. What's so good about the heat, anyway?_


	2. 2.

**The Time When It Almost Rained**

"Is cloudy today," Boris mused as the descended out of the bus and onto the dirt road.

"Do you think it might rain?" Theo asked. He took the umbrella when Boris pulled it out of his jacket— it was his turn to hold it.

"Rain?" Boris laughed sharply. "No. No rain here. You see land? How dry?" He gestured to the dying patches of what may have once been tall grass, yellowed weeds sticking out of the Earth. Theo smiled a bit, and stuck his free hand in his pocket.

"Very," he replied. "Sorry. I'm just more used to New York. It rained all the time there."

"You miss it?" Boris asked, and Theo shrugged, absently tilting the umbrella towards the taller boy as his mind wandered. He hardly noticed when those long, slender fingers drifted over and steadied it, lingering to endure it stayed upright and covered them both.

"Sometimes," he murmured. "I liked the rain." _Until that day_, he thought, but he didn't say it aloud. Boris surely wouldn't care.

"Then we _make_ it rain!" Boris said suddenly, grabbing the umbrella and stepping away. "You better hurry up, Potter. You get soaked if you don't come back under this umbrella."

Theo stared for a moment, dumbfounded, glancing around at the dry, acrid surroundings, then up at the cloudy sky. He returned his gaze to Boris, who was grinning, free hand reaching out, palm up, to catch imaginary raindrops. He started to smile.

Theo walked over, and Boris moved away again, holding the umbrella up higher. For a minute, Theo could imagine the feeling of the rain on the back of his neck. He could see the spatter of droplets on his glasses, blurring his vision slightly. He leaped forward, grasping for the umbrella's stem, but Boris was quicker, and his legs were longer. He laughed, dancing away and turning his face to the sky as he lowered the covering layer, spinning in the imaginary storm they had created.

"Can't catch me, Potter!" He cried distantly, and Theo ran after him, hair beginning to plaster to his face and a smile starting to spread. Boris slowed enough for Theo to just barely graze his sleeve with his fingertips, then pulled away again, cackling. Theo laughed, pure joy beginning to bubble in his stomach for the first time in what felt like years.

He didn't catch the boy until they were on his doorstep. Boris lifted the umbrella again, grabbed Theo's arm and yanked him underneath, holding on tight.

The rain disappeared— the air was once again dry, and Theo's glasses were clear— his hair was messy, but no longer dripping with precipitation. They breathed together, faint giggles beginning to fade.

"Here you are, Potter," Boris said. "Under this umbrella, safe from rain." A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, and he tilted his head, letting go of Theo's sleeve slowly.

"Under this umbrella, safe from all things."


	3. 3.

**The Time They Held Hands**

It had been a rough day at school, and Theo wasn't psyched about how things had been getting along with the other kids.

News travels fast in small towns, and if his town was small, the school was even smaller. It had everything a school was supposed to have— what it lacked was a large enough student body to keep everyone's nose out of everyone else's drama.

The moment Theo had showed up he had been 'Bomb Boy', or some other pointless nickname.

The only one he allowed to rouse a reaction was one that had started off being a nuisance—

"Potter!"

He paused at the door of the bus and turned to see a wild-haired boy dressed all in black running after him. He waited up, and Boris reached him moments later, shoving him up the steps and down the aisle until they reached their seat.

"Sit, Potter!" He insisted, and they sat. Boris grinned, rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it. "Look!"

Theo took the paper and unfolded it the rest of the way. It was a test. In the upper right hand corner there was a big red D -.

"It's not an F," he commented, unsure of what else to say.

"Is not!" Boris agreed cheerfully. "Is highest grade I get this year. We celebrate later! Have drink, watch movie. You stay night."

"I don't know if I can tonight," Theo said, looking out the window. The city-like area where the school resided was beginning to turn into more of a barren wasteland. Boris's stop was first, if he were to choose to get off there.

"Why not?" Boris asked, raising his eyebrows. Theo hesitated, sparing him a glance, then looking back out. "You don't know."

"I just feel like I should be there _sometimes_," he grumbled. "They're going to start asking questions if I don't come home for an entire week."

"Think realistic, Potter," Boris said firmly. "Will they notice you are gone?"

Theo didn't answer, pressing his lips into a thin line. The bus stopped, and Boris got up. Theo hesitated, watching the boy walk down the aisle. Then he got up and started to follow, ignoring the eyes that watched him as he went. Boris had already opened the umbrella when his feet hit the ground and he walked over, sidling up beside him. Their shoulders brushed as they walked— or, Theo's shoulder brushed Boris's upper arm.

Chilled fingers brushed against Theo's, and he turned his head away, cheeks heating up along with the surrounding air. Then they snagged, and a palm pressed against his. He didn't say anything, but when Boris gave his hand a squeeze, he tightened his own as well. They walked in silence, shade overhead, and approached Boris's front steps with quiet footfalls.

"Stay, Potter." The umbrella closed, and gentle fingers touched his cheek. "Will they notice you are gone?"

"No," Theo whispered, turning and letting his head fall forward to rest against Boris's chest.

"Niet. But I would. So will you stay?" The soft voice replied. Theo took a deep breath, and straightened up, grimacing.

"I don't really have much of a choice now, do I?" He asked. "The bus is gone. Your dad won't give me a ride. They'll never come all the way here to get me. Looks like you're sharing the blankets tonight."

"In your dreams," Boris laughed, letting go of his hand to unlock the door and step inside. The umbrella was hung from a hook on the wall. Theo watched it swing momentarily, mesmerized. Then that hand brushed his once again, and he latched on.

Maybe going unnoticed by the people who didn't care wasn't so bad— especially not if being noticed by the people who do felt this sweet.


	4. 4.

**The Time It Was Dark Outside**

It was the middle of the night, and Theo was terrified.

He could hear the yelling all the way from outside of the house— understanding it wasn't important. All he knew was that Boris's father did not sound pleased, and if the sharp cry of pain had anything to do with it, Theo was going to be pissed when Boris came out of the house hurt.

It sucked when he had to run away and Boris was getting beat on while Theo stood by and listened. He heard another soft thud and a muffled groan, and winced. He remembered the feeling of cold fingers lacing together with his own for the first time just that afternoon— hushed plans for him to stay the night, soft giggles as they built a nest of sheets and blankets then cracked open a few beers and threw on a movie.

Then the door slammed, and everything went to shit.

It wasn't the first time. Boris's father often came home drunk and furious when he wasn't supposed to be back for another day— sometimes even another week. But it always ended the same.

Sometimes Boris didn't come outside afterwards. Those were the times that Theo worried the most. What if he was truly hurt? What if he couldn't walk, and had no way to call for help? But what could he do? Guiltily, he would walk home, and if Boris's face and arms were littered with bruises the next day, they didn't speak of it.

This night, Theo clutched the hem of his shirt tightly in his fists and watched through the window, wincing at every smack of cane against body. When the shouting ceased, and there was silence after another door slammed, he took a deep breath and made his decision.

He wasn't going to just leave this time.

Theo snuck around the side of the house and back through the opened sliding glass door. Inching his way around the corner, he found a battered and bleeding Boris laying semi-conscious on the floor. His eyes were glassy, lips parted, bottom one split and trickling red. Heart beginning to crack, Theo got down on his knees and pulled the boy into a sitting position.

"Boris," he whispered, fingertips brushing his face gently. "Are you okay?"

"Leave, Potter," Boris mumbled through his swollen lip, seeming to stare straight through Theo and at the opposite wall behind him. "Is fine."

"It's not," Theo protested, voice trembling. "It's _not_ okay, Boris, you're _hurt_, you—"

"Shh, Potter," he whispered, pressing a shaking finger to Theo's lips, then turned his hand, running his thumb along the lower one delicately and cupping Theo's face in his palm. "Go home. I see you tomorrow."

"I'm taking you with me," Theo said firmly, shifting and getting Boris's arm over his shoulder. "I'm not leaving you here like this."

"Adventure?" The boy questioned hopefully— it was a long trek across town between their houses— and Theo sighed, slipping his arm around the taller boy's waist to support him.

"Yes," he agreed, glancing around the corner to watch for Boris's father before helping him stumble towards the exit. He grabbed the umbrella off of the hook as he went and closed the door quietly behind them, opening the contraption and holding it up. "You wanna hold it for us?"

"Is middle of night, silly," Boris giggled, but took it anyway, fumbling with it for a moment. Theo's fingers closed around Boris's to help him grip it, and they started to trudge along, the taller boy supporting more and more of his own weight until he was hardly leaning on Theo at all.

"_Under this umbrella, safe from all things,"_ Theo quoted softly. Boris stopped for a minute, turning his head to look, and Theo met his gaze shyly, tilting his head.

"You are strange, Potter," The boy told him, and Theo just shrugged, looking away and starting to walk again. It did not cool down during the night. He was sweating by the time they got to the end of the road and turned. They got almost the entire way across town before Boris spoke again.

"Am exhausted," he murmured as they rounded the corner onto Theo's street.

"I know," Theo said. He had let go of the umbrella and allowed his friend to hold it on his own. It was true— there was no need in the middle of the night. But it felt welcoming to have it out, and Boris seemed to know it, too. They walked up to Theo's front door and stopped, closing the umbrella, and turning to face each other.

"Thank you," Boris said simply.

"I'm not going to leave without you when he gets back anymore," Theo replied, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. "If you don't come with me when we hear the door, I'm not leaving."

"Potter, you must—" the boy started to protest, but Theo cut him off, shaking his head.

"I can't leave you to get your ass kicked every week, Boris," he sighed, looking down. "I don't like you getting hurt."

"Is fine," Boris waved it off.

"It's not," Theo countered, grabbing his hand. "It's not fine. He doesn't treat you right."

"So what?" Boris asked, shrugging his shoulders. "What is difference? Wrong, right, bah. Father is father."

"No," Theo disagreed. "Right is making dinner for you every night, and being there enough to make sure you actually eat it. Right is being there to see when you get a D - on your test and be proud because it's better than all of your Fs." Boris tilted his head, squinting at Theo and frowning. Theo sighed and continued. "Right is having nights where you watch things you both like, and laughing together, and caring about each other. Right is when a person feels like home. Right is _loving_ each other."

"So we are right, yes?" Boris asked, grinning toothily and further splitting his lip, but he didn't react. Theo's heart skipped a beat. Boris raised his eyebrows. "Home is under this umbrella," he added, waving it in the air. "Potter is under this umbrella," he continued. "So Potter is home."

"Yeah," Theo rasped, blinking slowly.

_Right is loving each other._

"Yeah, I guess we are right."

_At least, for me, you are._


	5. 5.

**The Time They Brought It To School**

Theo slammed his locker shut and stormed down the hallway, cheeks flushed with anger and heart thudding in his chest.

It wasn't the first time people had called him names, and it wouldn't be the last, but he had a right to be sick of it.

He turned a corner, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders, avoiding the gaze of other students. The last thing he wanted was to be approached by some 'humble' stranger.

"Easy, Potter," a familiar and soothing voice murmured. Something cast shade down over his head as Boris fell into step beside him, an easy smile spreading across his face.

Theo wasn't sure why they had the umbrella out in the halls of their high school, but when Boris shifted a little bit closer to him to make sure he was holding it over his head, too, he decided not to complain.

It was a little bit embarrassing— they were getting stares from every direction— but Theo just lowered his head and tried to ignore it.

_After all, Potter,_ he thought to himself with a small smile. _Under this umbrella, safe from all things. _

The first challenger approached. A teacher they didn't even have stood in front of them with his arms crossed over his chest. They stopped, and Theo lifted his arm, fingers grazing the hand Boris was clutching the umbrella in. He glanced over, and Theo furrowed his eyebrows in a silent question. Boris just smiled toothily and shrugged.

"And how's the weather under there, boys?" The teacher asked, face grim.

"Oh," Boris said, feigning surprise. "Under here? Is perfect."

"Well, you're gonna have to put that away before I confiscate it," the adult replied, raising his eyebrows. "So make your choice wisely."

"Bold words coming from someone standing in the middle of a typhoon with no umbrella," Theo countered, and there was a murmur of laughter amongst the students watching. But the only chuckle he cared about was the soft one from the boy beside him. Modest, but still there. His lips quirked upwards in the corners at the sound. The teacher was unimpressed. He held out a hand for the contraption. Theo looked at Boris again, and the taller boy shrugged.

"Was going to ask you to ditch anyway," he reasoned. Theo laughed.

Then they ran.


	6. 6.

**The Time it was Windy**

When they got off the bus and a gust of wind nearly sent Theo toppling over— being the short, slightly underweight stock that he was— he had almost been worried that the umbrella wasn't going to work out that day. Boris caught him before he could keel over, slender fingers curling around his hip and staying there even after he caught his balance. Theo hoped his cheeks weren't as red as they felt like they might be.

His eyes widened when the black fabric of the umbrella blossomed before his eyes and the arm curled around his waist jerked him forward when the wind caught the contraption. There was an alarming sound— the metal rods were straining against their hold. Boris laughed.

"Come on, Potter!" He shouted. "Jump!" Theo hesitated, wind gusting powerfully from behind, then he grabbed a handful of Boris's jacket and threw himself forward into a leap of faith. Boris jumped too, and the wind carried them forward an extra little bit, the umbrella catching it and drawing them forth. Theo gasped, jarred by the feeling of his feet striking the pavement unevenly, and he stumbled again, only for Boris to pull him upright and jump again.

They lurched forward, carried by the strong winds— and funnily enough, all Theo could think was that even though they weren't _under_ the umbrella he felt the rules still applied.

He allowed that smile, the easy one that only came out when Boris was around, to reveal itself for just a few moments. He laughed a little bit himself as they bounded down the street, only slowing when his house came into view. They were about to reach the sidewalk.

There was one more powerful gust, and Theo made his strongest leap yet. Boris's grip on his waist faltered, and the shorter boy's toe hit the sidewalk. The stomach-wrenching feeling of falling struck him. Then someone grabbed his wrist and yanked him back— he fell against a solid body and clutched at it tightly, trembling just a little bit. Boris wrestled the umbrella shut, but Theo didn't let go. He locked his arms around the taller boy, relishing the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet.

After a moment, a returning pair of arms wrapped around him and he felt Boris's face press into the top of his head. He took a deep breath, pushing his own head into the shoulder of his friend, and then exhaled slowly.

"Maybe next time we wait for wind to die down," Boris suggested with laughter in his voice, and Theo shivered at the feeling of lips moving against his scalp— something he hadn't felt since he was much younger and his mother still kissed his forehead to check if he was sick.

"Yeah," Theo agreed faintly, closing his eyes and pressing himself as close as he could get.

"Maybe next time."


	7. 7.

**The Time They Went Shopping**

“This place doesn’t even have anything good anyway,” Theo complained as they walked the aisles. Snacks lined the shelves on either side of them. Boris held the umbrella again today— Theo thought it drew too much attention to them, but Boris opened it anyway, snickering.

And of course, how could Theo argue with the cool, slender fingers that were once again curling against his shorter, stubbier ones?

So they strolled through the small shop, pausing when they found something of interest, and if it was small enough, Boris would drop it into the expansive pockets of his battered old jacket.

Today he was wearing the red sweater that just so happened to be Theo’s favorite of his. Especially when it was hot out and his cheeks flushed a little against the heat. It wasn’t in a _weird_ way, Theo found himself constantly trying to excuse, he just liked the contrast against Boris’s skin— pale, milky white complexion against a deep red sweater, only further highlighted by the soft redness in his freckles cheeks.

But the store was chilly, and they were approaching the small freezer section. The AC was high even for California weather, and Boris, upon noticing Theo shiver, shrugged off his jacket and draped it over his shoulders. Too embarrassed to protest and draw further attention to himself, Theo kept quiet, his blush helping to warm his cheeks. Boris just grinned at him, tugging the sleeves of the sweater over his long fingers and shifting his grip on the umbrella.

Theo watched as the slight chill of the aisle started to get to his friend and his cheeks got red for a different reason— cold. His nose turned pink. But he didn’t seem to mind. He was hardly shivering.

They left the aisle anyway.

“No use taking ice cream,” Boris had reasoned under his breath. “Will just melt on the way home.”

So they walked into the next row. There was only one left after this— it was a small store. Theo flopped the sleeves of Boris’s jacket, trying to free his hands, and Boris watched with muted amusement for a brief moment before hooking the umbrella over his shoulder and approaching. Theo watched in poorly-masked frustration as Boris folded the sleeves back far enough that his hands could peek out, caught the fingers of one with a cheeky grin and tugged him along, hands swinging between them as they went.

Theo shook the sleeve of his free hand back just a slight bit more and took a flashlight off of the shelf as he walked by, slipping it into one of the more empty pockets.

“Alright, Potter,” Boris sighed, taking a glance down the last aisle. It seemed to just have cleaning supplies. “We go now. What movie is on tonight?”

“Whatever movie you want,” Theo said, shrugging. They headed for the exit and the usual nervous energy began to bubble up in his chest. Would they be caught? They hadn’t yet. But there had been some close calls. The umbrella shielded them from the flickering light above their head and Theo swallowed thickly, eyes darting nervously up to meet his friend’s.

Boris simply smiled, squeezed his hand and nodded towards the doors. “Is your turn to pick movie, silly. If you don’t pick, we watch Harry Potter!” A barking laugh escaped him, and despite his distaste for the nickname, Theo couldn’t help but think, _God, can I keep you?_

“Boys,” a stern voice piped up behind them, and Theo froze, heart beginning to speed up, palms beginning to sweat. Boris have his hand another tiny squeeze, then let go, turning on his heels. His grin became much lazier.

“Hello, mister,” he said, tilting his head. Theo turned too, and he was sure he must look dead pale. “Can we help you?”

“I was just wondering if you were going to buy that before you parade out the door,” the clerk said. He was an older man with deep frown-lines. His lips were curled downwards into a sourpuss. He was squinting. Suddenly, Theo’s pockets felt so much heavier, and he thought, _God, I should have left the flashlight, the dog toy, _something_, I don’t need those things, they were just stupid little trinkets, I took them for _fun_, I should have just left them, I should have—_

“What, this old thing?” Boris asked, presenting the umbrella. Theo nearly passed out when the clerk nodded and jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a display of identical umbrellas. Boris laughed. Theo could cry. “No, I already pay. Years ago! If you check camera, we have umbrella when we walk in.” He shrugged, but turned to Theo and started to sift around in the pockets of the jacket. Theo stood there helplessly, avoiding the eyes of the old clerk, who was unimpressed.

“Here!” Boris cried triumphantly, fishing something out of one of the smallest pockets. Theo watched him hand the little item to the clerk and he realized it was a receipt.

The old man unfolded it and examined it, brow furrowing. Then he folded it back up and handed it to Boris, pursing his lips.

“Fine,” he rasped. “But next time you come in here, you buy something, or I won’t have you wandering my aisles again.”

“Yes, sir,” Boris agreed enthusiastically, straightening up and throwing him a salute. The man almost seemed to smile— just a quirk of the lips— then he shooed them out, Boris laughing and Theo gasping for breath.

“You have the receipt for this thing?!” Theo asked first, gesturing to the old umbrella. Boris held up the little paper, dangling it in front of his eyes.

“Yes!” He answered. “Is first thing I actually buy with money. Call me nostalgia!” He swung the contraption back up and over their heads. Theo slipped his hand into Boris’s once more— a rarity. He wasn’t often the one to initiate contact.

But he saw Boris smile, and cast him a little glance— one of those little looks that people only give their friends and loved ones when they think no one is watching.

And he was happy.


	8. 8.

**The Time When They Kissed**

It was hotter out than usual, and they had decided not to go to school today. Popper had been cooped up for the whole week, and Theo was starting to feel bad— so they took him outside.

They were planning on using the pool, so he was in his swim trunks, and he picked the dog up, walking over to the water’s edge. Popper squirmed, getting comfortable in his grasp, then laid a few sloppy kisses on his face, dogging up his glasses.

“Oh, gross, you—“ Theo complained, but he felt a little prickle of love for the mutt. Especially when he put him down and saw how hard his tail was wagging. He just wanted a little love.

“Don’t we all?” He whispered, and was almost shocked when instead of a redhead, wild black curls seemed to fill his head.

_Almost_.

“Hey, Potter,” that familiar voice called. Theo turned to see Boris standing in a borrowed pair of swim shorts and a t-shirt— _“I burn too easy”_— with a mischievous smirk on his face.

He was planning something.

“Catch,” he said, and for a second Theo was confused— then he moved his hands from behind his back. One held the nozzle-end of the hose. The other held their umbrella. The latter came sailing through the air. There was a jolt of panic— _don’t drop it_— and then Theo’s fingers closed around the contraption. He straightened up, looked back at Boris, and deadpanned. The nozzle of the hose was pointed straight at him.

“Is set to ‘April Showers,’” Boris explainer, and suddenly his smile seemed a lot softer. More real. “I just think, well, if sky won’t rain for Potter, I make it rain. For real this time, no?” He shrugged. Theo stares, dumbfounded, as Boris set the nozzle facing upwards at an angle and turned on the water. Slowly, it started to flow out onto the ground, but the higher the pressure got, the further up into the air it went.

“Open the umbrella!” Boris cheered. Theo snapped out of his daze and started to move just a little too late. Bony arms looped around his torso just as the water got high enough to rain back down on them. By the time heunstrapped the umbrella and opened it they were already getting doused in water. Boris stood under the contraption with him, arms still locked around his middle, and although Theo stared up at him with wonder in his eyes, Boris just smiled out and around at the little shower they had created for themselves.

“See, Potter?” He asked, and finally, he looked down. Theo was frozen into place. “Is raining.” Boris held one hand out to catch a few droplets, then pressed his wet and cold hand to the shorter boy’s cheek. Startled out of his trance, Theo flinched away, and Boris laughed. The arm that had remained around him shifted— a hand rested on Theo’s waist. He swallowed thickly and looked up again. Boris was still trying to control his giggles. Theo reaches up with his free hand and grabbed Boris’s damp one, pressing it back against his own cheek.

_Oh God, what am I doing?_

Boris’s laughter died down, but his smile didn’t fade as he looked down at Theo with warm eyes. His thumb ran along the blonde’s cheekbone, displacing his glasses slightly, but he just readjusted them after.

“Potter,” Boris said, and Theo had the jarring realization that they were so close he could feel the boy’s breath against his face.

“Yeah?” He breathed, and the hand that clutched the umbrella shook so hard that a few droplets of water hit their shoulders on occasion. Boris hesitated.

_For the love of God what is i—_

_Oh._

Soft lips pecked his and disappeared immediately afterwards. Theo stood stock still, eyes as wide as saucers, face surely as red as Pippa’s hair wherever she was that day. But Pippa was the last thing on his mind as he gasped up at the boy who had just kissed him.

“You look like you need to cool off,” Boris said, hardly masking his smile with the mock-look of seriousness on his face. His fingers closed around the umbrella’s handle, and before Theo had even fully recovered from the shock, cold water was showering down from above and hitting his head.

Boris laughed, closed the umbrella and tossed it over by the door, retreating and jumping into the pool.

Theo touched his fingers to his lips.

Somewhere distant in the house his father yelled at them to turn off the hose.

“The water bills don’t pay themselves!”

And Theo smiled.


	9. 9.

**The Time When They Talked About It**

"Boris?"

The thought had been with Theo for the entire weekend, and it was late Sunday night. They would go to school tomorrow and it would be too late, because Boris always forgot everything that had happened _last_ weekend once a new one was on the way— so Theo knew this was his last chance.

He was afraid. Two days had passed since _The Incident_, as he was secretly calling it in his own head. Boris hadn't said anything yet, and he wasn't acting any different. It was like he had no idea of the weight he had simultaneously lifted from and dropped on Theo's shoulders.

Because what was this to him? Were kisses on the mouth a normal thing in any of the places he came from? Theo had no idea. Was it supposed to be a sort of confession? What was going on?

Theo had never worked himself up this much over anything they did behind closed doors. But he supposed that was because he didn't remember anything they did behind closed doors.

Until yesterday, at least.

Theo had known it was going to be a late night. He could see it in the way Boris was looking at him, like he was his next meal. And just— just out of curiosity, just out of a spur-of-the-moment decision, Theo waited until his friend was already high to get rid of his own fix.

Only he didn't get rid of it in the way Boris did. He put it back in the stash when the other boy wasn't looking.

You'd think it was easy to act high, but really, it wasn't, because Theo never remembered anything he did or said when he _was_. But Boris had been too far gone to notice anything. Especially once he had gotten his hands on Theo.

This had sealed the deal.

Theo needed to know why Boris had kissed him.

It was going to drive him crazy if he had to go back to being high whenever they fooled around after that— he couldn't pretend forever.

So there they were— and it was the middle of Sunday night, and Boris was contemplating the drugs that were under his mattress. And Theo turned the umbrella over in his hands, before opening it and turning so that he was facing his friend with his legs curled under him. That was when he spoke his name.

Boris looked up at him, saw the umbrella, and immediately sobered up— it was almost as though he knew this meant serious business. He gave Theo his full attention, hands in his lap. "What is it, Potter?"

Theo swallowed thickly and struggled to find the words. "I..."

God, this was harder than he thought it was going to be. But Boris was patient. He tilted his head, wild curls bouncing slightly with the motion, lips curved downwards into a soft frown— concerned.

"Remember when I was talking about what it means to be 'right'?" Theo blurted our. "How 'right' means all those great things... And how 'right' means loving each other?" He frowned. "And you said _we_ must be right?"

"Yes," Boris answered, brow furrowing. Theo exhaled sharply, breath shaking.

"Well I was just thinking about—" He cut himself off and shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his free hand under his glasses. Boris shifted closer so that they were both under the umbrella, and their knees pressed together, and somehow that made it _so much harder_. But Theo pressed on anyway.

"Is that why you kissed me?" He finally asked, and he hoped he didn't look as scared as he felt. Silence stretched out between them— he was too scared to look at Boris, to see his emotion at the question. Surely he was about to laugh— or maybe shout at him. How could he have been so stupid? Of course Boris didn't love him like that. They were best friends. They just messed around sometimes. It had probably just been a distraction in order to take the umbrella. He probably—

Warm hands cupped his face and there was a soft pressure against his mouth.

Theo's eyes flew open wide and he stared into the brown ones that were so close he could see every fleck if lighter brown, every worry and insecurity he had reflected back at him.

Boris didn't pull immediately way this time. He held Theo's cheeks and dragged it out, eyes wide open the entire time. When he pulled away, his lips were parted slightly, and Theo wanted nothing more than to memorize the feeling of them against his own.

_Do it again_, he wanted to say. _Do it again, and maybe this time you can stay sober, too— and it won't be just fooling around. It will be an act done out of love. _

"Okay," he squeaked.

"Okay?" Boris agreed. Theo nodded vigorously. The umbrella shook in his trembling grip. He wanted to ask— ask him if they could do it again. Screw the movie, screw the drugs, just for tonight let it be you and me.

Boris seemed to read his mind, because seconds later, that warm kiss was back, and this time, he reciprocated with just as much fervor as his partner.

His back hit the mattress.

The umbrella tumbled from his fingertips.

This was what it meant to be right.


	10. 10.

**The Time Theo Thought Might Be The Last**

It was dark out and Theo was panicking a little bit.

He was leaving, and he wasn't sure that he was going to be able to convince Boris to come with him. The boy loved adventures— and he often made very wild decisions— but even this was crazy for him.

Theo had already secured the painting. He put it in his bag and called a cab. Boris was following him around, watching with a calm expression— _too_ calm. Theo hated how silent he was. He hated how relaxed he seemed. He hated that he still felt a little bit high, because he was terrified that if he wasn't thinking straight, he wouldn't know what to say in order to ensure that Boris would come with him.

"Boris," Theo said, stopping in the front doorway and turning around. The boy raised his eyebrows, that pleasant smile still just barely gracing his face. Theo felt his heart rate speed up. His cheeks were hot, he could hardly breathe. "Boris," he said again, and his voice had raised an octave. "Boris, I—"

"Shh, Potter," the boy said, pressing a finger to his lips. "Is okay," Boris whispered.

"Why can't you just come with me?" Theo asked tearfully.

"Is complicated," Boris rumbled, pulling back just enough to look at him more clearly. "Why must you _go_?"

"I _have_ to go," Theo insisted, stumbling backwards down the steps as his taxi pulled up to the curb. "I keep telling you! Now... are you coming, or not?" Boris trailed after him, and he finally looked just a little bit sad.

Scratch that— he looked very sad. Boris didn't often show the more negative emotions— but he stood in front of Theo now with their umbrella in his hands and tears in his eyes.

"You go on ahead," he said. "I'll follow. One or two days."

"You _have_ to come!" Theo insisted. "_Promise me_!" He begged, warm wetness finally beginning to spill over his cheeks, and slender fingers brushed them away. The umbrella made the familiar _fwap_ sound as it opened and the stars were blocked out from the sky above. Now Theo was really crying— and as he looked up at the umbrella he wondered if he would ever see it opened again.

"We'll go to Brighton Beach!" He continued to press— _desperate_, now. "That's where all the Russians hang out. And we can go to school together! And—"

"Potter," Boris interrupted. Theo fell silent, mouth hanging slightly open. Boris ducked down and pressed their lips together, eyes open as they always were when he kissed him. And Theo looked deep into them, searching for any sort of reassurance, any notion that he need not worry.

"Good luck," Boris whispered against his mouth, before pulling back. He picked up Popper, kissed him on the nose, and closed the umbrella, handing both to Theo. The shorter boy felt numb— shocked. He got into the taxi and hardly saw his partner waving him off as the car pulled away from the sidewalk.

It wasn't until he was too far to have second thoughts, much too far to turn back, that he realized with a horrible thrill that he had seen none of the reassuring glint that he had been searching for in those dark, beautiful eyes.

All he had seen were the eyes of a boy who he _knew_ was his 'right'—

The eyes of a boy that he had never worked up the courage to tell exactly what that meant.


End file.
